


Purple Rain

by megan_all



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham - All Media Types, Joker (2019)
Genre: Arkham Asylum, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark, Death, Elements Of The Killing Joke, Explicit Language, Gen, Gotham, Mental Breakdown, Other, The New Joker, Transformation, happy endings are subjective
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2020-12-07 19:09:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20980910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megan_all/pseuds/megan_all
Summary: “And I was in the darkness, so darkness I became.”At the start of a new year and a new family, the Joker's unknown daughter decides to finally meet him, seeking closure, whilst he's being held in Arkham Asylum. However, the meeting turns into one bad day that ruins everything. Forever.





	1. Chapter 1

Rain was peacefully drizzling, slowly washing away the last snow of Christmas. The burnt orange beam from Christmas lights in shop windows and streetlamps hit each drop of the gentle shower, casting a warm glow across London City Centre. The echo of laughter from a group of friends was cushioned by the blanket of white surrounding them. The friends parted ways, and a couple were left dancing round the icy patches on the cobbled street, both holding a collection of gifts wrapped in ‘Happy Birthday’ paper, apart from one. The woman’s face had changed from a polite smile to a frown.

“Can you believe this wrapping paper? I’m not Jesus, my birthday isn’t on Christmas.” She discreetly sneered at the Rudolf-the-Red-Nosed-Reindeer wrapped gift. The man gave a light laugh.

“It’s not personal. It’s not like she doesn’t like you.”

“Oh, please, we all know she doesn’t like me. Like we all know I hate Christmas, as well.” She rolled her eyes at her Christmas wrapped gift before lifting her head and quickening her pace.

“Nothing good ever happens in the winter.”

As she continued talking about her disdain of the wrapping paper and whether the careless gifter liked her at all, she failed to notice that her partner was no longer by her side. When she realised, she shouted his name without turning around. With no response, she stopped, and looked around in worry. She did not see him at first, then her eyes fell on him. On one knee in the only patch of the cobbled road that was free of winter remains, he held out a brilliant, emerald ring. The lights hit off it, causing part of it to appear red.

*

The snow had now been completely washed away, leaving the city with nought but grey clouds, dampness and murky days, waiting patiently for the spring like a dandelion bulb under the thawed soil. After a slow morning on the first day back at school after the Christmas holidays, she showed off her engagement ring to her fellow teachers at lunchtime. Excited discussions about wedding dresses and venues were shared over cups of well needed coffee. That afternoon she had ‘Show N’ Tell’ with her youngest class, obviously just an opportunity for the children to boast about their favourite Christmas present. There were the usual whatever-was-trendy-that-year toys, plastic toys with loud sirens or singing coming from them, a few dolls that cried real tears and several superhero figures. Going around in a circle, each child introduced their toy and gave it its own name. She fondly placed her hand on her barely there bump, just peeking into existence. Looking around the room after falling into a light daydream about the future, her eyes stopped dead on a doll of a clown a child had brought in. The hair was matted and a dull green, the eyes had no depth and that smile. The smile was too wide.

She stared at this clown, her stomach and chest clenching with anxiety. She couldn’t part with its eyes. She couldn’t stop staring.

She walked home still in a trance from her encounter earlier that day. She stopped in a fast food place to get dinner. It was dull, with glitching lights and steamed up windows, but the little bell above the door and the smell of the food had distracted her from the whatever was brewing in her mind.

A conversation with the server changed everything.

“That’s a pretty unusual accent you’ve got, are you from Australia or something?”

“No” she smiled. “My mother is from New York.”

The server suddenly seemed very interested. “Oh really? Where about?”

“Gotham.” She was no longer smiling, just focusing on how hard her heart was beating throughout her body. When was the last time she mentioned that place? Or even heard of it? Her fiancé made sure to change the radio station or television channel whenever it was mentioned.

“I’m guessing you’ll want to see this then.” He pointed to a small outdated TV hanging loosely in the corner of the shop and switched the current channel to the news.

_“Gotham’s infamous vigilante has at last caught The Joker and is currently transporting the criminal personally to the all-new, rebuilt Arkham Asylum, this time it’s modernised and technologically up to date with new and improved psychiatric techniques. Military trained security guards will make sure The Joker does not escape again -“_

“Ha! That bastard. He’s finally going to get what’s coming to him.”

“I actually thought he was pretty cool.” Another server said passively.

“He’s killed people, Brian.”

She was not listening to the servers anymore. Her burning eyes were staring at the TV, her blood running cold then hot again in waves, goose bumps making her skin sore against her clothes, something deep inside churning and pumping and working its way up and up then –

_“- There he is! He’s over there exiting the batmobile, his hands and ankles are chained, there’s a chair with straps waiting for him at the Asylum gates -“_

Their eyes clicked. Everything fell silent apart from the slowing beat of her heart.

She has his eyes.

He has hers.

One pair is filled with fear, while the other is filled with nothing but a glint of madness. It was as if he saw her through that grim little TV. She couldn’t look away. She couldn’t scream. She couldn’t cry. There was the sound of a bell and the traffic outside, then the door closing.

*

She threw her front door open and slammed it shut then stormed into the living room forgetting her fiancé is home at this time. He was also taken aback at her return and tried as quickly as he could to shut the TV off. Before he could ask what happened she said exasperated staring at the floor with her eyes narrowed.

“It’s fine, I already saw it.” And he knew.

“So, no dinner then?” She looked up and glared at him through her furrowed eyebrows. He left the couch and made his way to her, ready for the usual comfort session that has been put in place whenever she sees a clown or even worse, _him_. However, she put her hands on his arms and brought them back down to his side before they could wrap around her. She looked up at him, trying to be as convincing as possible.

“I want to meet him. When we go to New York next week for your work trip, I want to go to Gotham and see him.”

He looked at her with warm eyes, hiding his complete bewilderment and choosing to ignore the shakiness in her voice. He placed a gentle hand on each side of the tiny bump between them.

“You can’t put yourself through too much stress-“

“It’s not even a fucking baby yet.”

She immediately regretted what she said and recoiled at her own words. He stepped back from her, his jaw tensed, and his loving eyes hid under a frown.

“I’m so sorry, I-” She completely forgot about what happened and anything she felt before those words came out her mouth.

“I swear I didn’t mean that” she stepped forward and threw her arms around his waist, burying her face into the crook of his neck, trying to hug the words away. He softened and squeezed her shoulders and rested his chin on the crown of her head.

“I know”

“I won’t go meet him. You’re right.”

“No, I think you should. You need closure on your past before focusing on your future.”

“But what if it reopens the past completely?”

“I’ll always be here to make sure it won’t.”

She was looking over his shoulder, at the TV still showing the news.

Watching him.

And he watched her. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And I was in the darkness, so darkness I became.”
> 
> At the start of a new year and a new family, the Joker's unknown daughter decides to finally meet him, seeking closure, whilst he's being held in Arkham Asylum. However, the meeting turns into one bad day that ruins everything. Forever.

This was the first time she had ever been in New York. The first few days of the trip were filled with formal dinners, bland acquaintances, and visiting the usual tourist spots whilst her fiancé was working, but this was _the_ day. It has all been arranged, and _he _accepted the visitation request right away, even though she made no mention of who she was, or what she wants.

She decided against a cab and made her way to the Grand Central Terminal. She was stuck in a daze, too stressed to feel or think about anything concrete. Her fiancé had offered to go with her to Arkham Asylum, but she said no. Something she now regrets. She was cold and alone, vulnerable to the outside world and the inside of her head was no better. She was walking through the station with open but unseeing eyes, taking weary steps like that of a new-born lamb.

But then a group of people ran past her, snapping her out of her daze in the most erupt way possible. Her eyes suddenly began processing her surroundings. Several dozen people headed to the same train terminal as her wearing clown masks. She then clocked all the police officers. With guns. Then her ears started to take in the chaos. Muffled yells from the underneath of clown masks, police shouting, trains being announced over the tannoy, babies crying, the traffic outside. Police. Clowns. Guns. Screams. Everything was moving too fast and it was all too loud. She frantically looked for any sort of escape route, but she noticed everyone in the station looking. Everyone turned and staring.

Was it her? Were they looking at her?

She was so overwhelmed, so filled with fear and anxiety, she was about to burst. She took her eyes away from the cold stares of onlookers and looked towards her terminal, the group of anonymous clowns now clamouring onto the train for Gotham. She ran, as quickly as she could to the train. She closed her eyes so tight she thought she may never be able to open them again. She pushed past the clowns, and even though she wasn’t looking she felt the painted dead eyes looking down on her, sizing her up to consume. She remembered the dolls eyes. She remembered his.

She quickly glanced once inside to catch a seat. She saw one right at the back next to a window. She noticed passengers giving her funny looks, possibly because her hair was a mess, her eyes were watering, and she was out of breath. She broke her eye line with them by looking straight ahead and walked unassumingly to the seat. The train set off and the clowns were in the other carriages, away from her. She felt exhausted. She felt sick. She reached in her bag for a cigarette, then remembered the baby. She threw the pack back in and turned her head to look out the window, annoyed. She thought about why she still carries them around but dismissed this. She thought instead to concentrate on the route she was going to take to the Asylum. Organisation makes her feel better and provides the perfect distraction. She would not, above all, think of him.

However, her thoughts were bluntly interrupted by a girl in front of her, perhaps a few years younger, in strange, colourful clothes and platinum hair spun round in two bunches. The girl revealed a heavy, New Jersey accent.

“Hey, ya mind if I have a smoke?” The girl chirped with a somewhat innocent grin.

“I’m impressed, how did you know? Did you see them earlier?” She hadn’t noticed this girl before. She pulled one out, smiling slowly then paused and handed the pack over to the girl.

“Actually, take them all, I don’t smoke anymore.”

The girl who was still grinning looked very pleased with this gift and smugly said;

“Nah, I didn’t see you. I just have a knack for these things, ya know? Smarts.” She said, tapping the side of her head with her finger.

The girl asked her why she was going to Gotham. She just said to visit a friend in Arkham Asylum, they then shared a smile and went back to their own thoughts.

Finally, the train arrived in Gotham. She stood up, turned to the strange girl and gave a polite “see you later.”

But the girl jumped up and pushed past her and singed “might be sooner than that!” and ran off the train.

A few seconds later there were screams and shouting. She peeped warily out the window and saw out on the platform the girl posing in front of seven armed officers, with the clowns now forming a crowd around them. The girl seemed to love it. They were saying something she couldn’t make out, then the girl turned around, and playfully pointed at her.

“What?” She questioned under her breath, completely confused.

Suddenly, several officers rushed onto the train and she was grabbed by the arms. She started screaming and kicking with one thought going around and round in her head, thinking back to those people staring at her in Grand Central;

_“They know who I am. They know who I am. They know who I am.”_

Rationale set in however, and she realised there is no way they could know. No one knows.

She stopped struggling, just felt anger and confusion realising that girl has dragged her into something. She was shoved into a van next to the girl, both with hands in cuffs.

“What the FUCK?”

“Well, you said you were headed to Arkham, didn’t ya?”

*

“I swear on my mother’s life, I haven’t a clue who she is.”

She was stuck in an integration room in Arkham Asylum. It was cold and lonely despite the two men with cheap suits and sagging faces - almost cartoon like - in front of her, and shouting could be heard in the distance.

“So, you just happened to meet the craziest bitch in the world on your sweet little train ride.”

“Yes! I swear! Look on the visitation list, I’m on it for today if that’s any sort of proof I’m not some CRAZED villain.” She slumped down back into her chair and threw her arms across her chest. All the anxiety she felt from the events that day have been washed down by a burning cocktail of pissed off and fed up.

One of the interrogators nodded their head at the obvious two-way mirror on the other side of the room. She knew that even though her name was going to be on that list, the knavish men would might not even let her go. There was a brief pause whilst the men stared her down in silence. Then she thought. She remembered all the stories of bribery and corruption at Arkham Asylum, the second reason it was so notoriously infamous around the world. She doesn’t have time to think about the first reason.

She looked up from her cuffed hands and lifted her head slightly.

“You know, my husband is a very influential man, and my brother in law is one of the best lawyers Britain has to offer.” The two men looked at each other with mouths slightly hanging open. They just realised the shit they were going to end up in. They couldn’t afford to have Arkham Asylum being in the news for holding an innocent and wealthy young woman hostage, especially one with important connections. The media and the public were just waiting for something or someone in the Asylum to fuck up. They may have built a new, fancy building that still smelled of fresh paint, but the inner workings were still the same from when there were old rusting bars and rotting wood. 

A young officer came through the door with papers in hand.

“She’s not lying, she’s on the list for visitation in half an hour.”

“For who?”

*

She was handed back her belongings, received a thousand apologies and was escorted to the max security isolated visitation room, the only place that wasn’t included in the re-vamp. She may have just given the impression she wasn’t someone who could be scared easily, but she was terrified. The platinum haired girl was quickly forgotten.

She was patted down thoroughly, ask to remove socks and shoes, had her mouth inspected with a flashlight and her hair rummaged through, all for random objects she could be trying to sneak in. 

She started to slip back into a daze, her favourite coping mechanism, and realised her heart was beating faster and faster, and the anxiety came trickling back in.

“Do not make sudden movements. Do not raise your voice. Do not show too much emotion. Do not touch. Always keep your hands-on top of the table. Wait for permission to stand. There will be four armed men in the room with you in each corner. We will be watching from the two-way mirror. Put this bulletproof vest on-” She watched the emotionless guard, acting as if this was normal. None of this, was normal.

“-If anything goes wrong, do not panic, we will get you. Understood?”

The guard didn’t even pause for a response, but there was a look of sheer concern in his eyes.

“You can wait in there for him.”

She walked into a cream, tiled room with ugly fluorescent lighting and the four-armed men as promised. She slowly sat down in a hard-wooden chair that had a leg loose. She started picking at the skin around her nails then remembered her rules, and timidly place her hands on the cold table in front. She began feeling faint from how hard her heart was working and how her breath tried to catch up with it. It was almost like getting locked into your seat on a roller-coaster ride, and you’re just having to wait for someone to press ‘Go’ at any time.

She stared down at the side of the table, reading the carved names and mostly threats. She was just trying not to overthink what was about to happen. Trying not to think about the man who she worked so hard to forget.

An alarm began screeching in the hall outside, but she did not even flinch. The heavy steel door into the room struggled open, scratching the tile underneath it. She did not look up. The sound of footsteps and chains clinking together started to come closer and closer to her. She squeezed her eyes shut. She heard the door come to a loud close and the jangling of keys.

Then, it was silent, apart from their breathing, in sync.

She lifted her head, opened her eyes and saw her father’s staring right back at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got ahead of myself and uploaded the next chapter sooner than I intended since it was getting on my nerves as this gives a better feel and bit more insight to the fic than the first chapter. Thanks to those who left a kudos so far it's currently five times as many as I expected to receive😂. The next chapter will be posted possibly on Friday and then I will try to stick to a schedule.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And I was in the darkness, so darkness I became.”
> 
> At the start of a new year and a new family, the Joker's unknown daughter decides to finally meet him, seeking closure, whilst he's being held in Arkham Asylum. However, the meeting turns into one bad day that ruins everything. Forever.

TWENTY-THREE YEARS EARLIER 

"He's on his way over now. We have him. There's no way he'll be a free man after this." A police officer with kind eyes solemnly told her.

A gentle-looking woman, who may have been beautiful in youth, but now frail with sunken eyes, was lightly stroking her sleeping daughter's hair who couldn't be more than five years old. The little girl cradles a clown ragdoll, peacefully smiling into its green hair. The apartment was depressing and worn down. What once was a safe, loving home was now a hollow shell with nothing but the bitter taste of stale memories.

"Will they jail me, for being an accomplice?" She quietly asked, still looking down at her infant daughter, so innocent due to the blessing of childhood ignorance. If she could cry, she would, but her eyes dried up long ago, never able to cry again. She too was hollow like her home.

The Police Officer sighed through his nose and wrung his hands nervously.

"That's why they've sent me over here, to take you in. Everyone knows you had nothing to do with the shit he's been getting up to, but whenever he was here you never called us, and you let him go. That's enough for the judge."

"But what will happen to her." The little girl tightened her arms around her doll, causing a small glimmer of peace to shine in the mother's eyes.

Her head abruptly shot up from her daughter to now at the open window, the screech of police sirens started filling the apartment. She froze for a moment, contemplating, then rapidly started packing bags, gathering spare change and their passports.

The Police Officer stood watching; his face etched with sadness. He wanted to help but knew he couldn't, but he also didn't stop her. She carefully wrapped a blanket around her still sleeping daughter. As she lifted her, the ragdoll fell from her arms onto the floor below.

She pushed past the Police Officer, still standing, doing nothing. She opened the door and stopped. She turned slightly to look at him.

"My husband, he is a good man. A good father. All of this, all the horrible things he's been doing, is for her. We are so poor, she'll have no future, he just-" She stopped, shook her head and left. The Police Officer left a few moments after, to make sure she got out safely.

Rain started to envelop Gotham. She pulled her hood over her head and covered her daughters face with the blanket and entered the cold night. She began walking quickly, keeping her eyes on the ground. 

But then, fast footsteps began echoing in the empty street. She looked up and saw him running frantically down the street ahead, illuminated by the streetlights. She quickly threw herself against the wall of an alley, depending on the shadows to hide her. He ran past, choking on blood. Blood was also coming from his nose, dripping onto his clothes. She watched as he entered their apartment building. She knew she had to move. Now. But she stayed fixed to the spot.

He ran up the stairs like a gazelle being chased by lions. He ran to the apartment, then stopped, panting viciously with his hands gripped on the door frame. His wet hair plastered to his face, his clothes soaked with blood and rain. He stared through the open door into the empty living room. Slowly, he walked in, scanning around cautiously. There was no one there. No movement but the breeze through the open window blowing through the thin curtains framing it. No sound but the sirens of police cars now surrounding the building. He walked, emotionless, to the clown ragdoll on the floor. Still warm from sleepy cuddles. He picked it up and stared at its comedic face, the curly green hair, big blue eyes and a wide, red smile. He brushed his hair behind his ear with his hand, wiped the blood and rain from his face and focused on the smile. It was mocking him. Rage built within him. He traced his fingers across the smile, leaving a trail of blood.

He suddenly began screaming and crying in anger and ripped the doll apart until there was nothing but scattered bits of stuffing and fabric circling him. He fell to his knees; his heart had been completely ripped open. He threw his hands up and grabbed his hair, tears impairing his vision and getting caught in his throat as he wailed. He knew he had been abandoned; his daughter snatched from him. Everything he had done till that point, all the crime, the thievery, was for her. And now it was all for nothing.

His mind became a whirlpool and he let every single negative thought he had been battling for so long consume him whole. His shattered mind took his decaying heart and threw it to the wolves of darkness. He had nothing. He was nothing.

He stood up, shuddering. Weak. He walked into the bathroom and faced the mirror, his tears refused to stop and his throat felt like sandpaper. He stared at the reflection and was disgusted at what he saw.

His eyes were red and swollen, his face gaunt and grey. Dry blood flaked around his mouth and nose. The pain was too much. He couldn't stand what he felt inside and how his face showed how utterly broken he was. He looked at his mouth, downturned, almost sagging. He couldn't stand it but he had no energy to force a smile or even to lift it slightly.

He shakenly lifted his finger to his mouth, wetting it with saliva then stroked the blood around his mouth across his cheeks. He stopped.

He looked out the door into the living room and gazed at the remains of the clown.

He drew his pocketknife from his waistcoat and pressed the blade into the corner of his mouth.

She was still there hidden in that alley, peaking around the wall, desperately trying to see what was happening. The rain had now soaked her completely, but the blanket around her daughter was thick enough to keep her dry and warm. Six police cars were now stationed outside the building, all officers had their guns pointed at the entrance. Waiting.

And there he was. She let out a scream before throwing her hand up over her mouth to muffle it, as the headlights of the cars and the flashing sirens lit up his bloody, torn face.

He walked out calmly, with his arms slightly raised. His head and palms faced up to the sky, embracing the rain. It looked like he was grinning but was it a real smile or the oozing wounds cut into his cheeks?

In one swift movement he whipped out a gun from seemingly nowhere and shot one police officer in the throat. The others began shooting rapidly, but he was only hit in the leg. He didn't even cry out in pain, he just laid on the ground, drenched in a puddle, cackling. Officers picked him up and slammed him against a wall and cuffed him.

This just made the laughing worse. It was shrill and chesty. It sounded painful. 

She was too engulfed and overwhelmed by the sheer terror of the smile and that laugh, she didn't notice her daughter was woken by the gunshots. The little girl turned around sleepily, too young to know it was gunshots that woke her and saw, in her mind, her dear father being ganged up on by scary men.

She struggled her way out of her mother's arms and started running, screaming "DADDY!" over and over.

Her mother ran after her, and grabbed her, then hid behind a dumpster before anyone could see them. She covered her hand over the whimpering child's mouth, confused tears streaming down her little face. The Police were too focused to hear the screams. But he did.

He stopped laughing and froze, turning his head towards the sound. His face fell, and he whispered his daughter's name lightly under his breath.

Her name was lost to the wind.

NOW

All the fear she had been feeling till this moment evaporated as soon as her eyes locked with his.

His eyes, once a bright, royal blue, just like hers, were now cast in shadow, causing them to appear a dull grey. He looked at her, but instead of looking curious or confused, he just looked beaten, and empty. Like he didn't even care.

The fluorescent lights beamed down on him, bringing out the remains of green dye in his dark brown, yet greying hair. She studied his weathered face, rough stubble and thick, but faint scars across his cheeks. What scared her was not the man in front of her, but the love she suddenly felt entering her heart.

He was slumped in his chair, hands in cuffs loosely resting on his lap, everything steady apart from his eyes, blinking occasionally, focused on her. She forgot about all his crimes, instantly. This was no monster. No villain. Just her father, who once meant the whole world to her. And he knew exactly who she was.

"What happened." He grumbled, his voice coarse. His face looked like it was sagging, and he exuded raw grief, even with the smiling illusion of the scars. She knew exactly what he was referring to.

Her words got caught in her throat, and her eyes began to burn. He smirked slightly and looked down at her hands shaking on top of the table. He leaned forward, staring at her, his eyes now filling with what could be love, if he was anyone else.

"Do you remember, that little ragdoll you had, when you were little?" He gave a genuine smile. She couldn't help but return it. She did remember it, her second most favourite thing in the world, with her father being her number one. The grief of losing that doll was almost as great as losing him. She stayed silent, her smile being good enough of a response for him.

"Now what kid would want a doll of a clown?" He casually laughed, going back in his chair and crossing his arms as best he could with the chains, still with that smile. Everything felt normal. It felt right. She quietly laughed as well and remembered the clown doll a child brought into class last week. The one that filled her with fear.

"You'd be surprised." She whispered.

He broke his eye contact and his smile fell. He clasped his hands and stared at them.

"How's your mother." She was flung back into reality of the moment. Her smile disappeared too, and she turned to stare at the two-way mirror beside them. She was told not to tell him anything personal, but she squinted to spot the guard on the opposite side, hoping for permission. Of course, she couldn't see anyone but herself. She decided to tell him anyway.

"She died twelve years ago, of cancer." She looked back at him. He was now bent over, his head slightly hanging. His long hair covered his eyes from her view, but she saw a single tear escape down his cheek, getting caught in the groove of his scar. He recomposed himself, wiped away the tears quickly and sniffed before looking back at her. He asked about who looked after her afterwards, if she finished school, if she had a nice life. She reassured him that her life was great, that she was now engaged and found out recently she was with child. They carried on talking normally, as if they were never separated, and at home instead of a prison. He stopped and looked over at her with big, questioning eyes.

"Do you wish, it had been different?"

Her smile faded.

"Maybe."

His eyes suddenly clouded, his eyebrows creased together, and a horrific, wide grin crept along his face. He started chuckling slowly.

She couldn't stop staring as she slowly retreated into her seat and felt the blood drain from her face. Suddenly, the four-armed men in the room with them cocked their guns and aimed straight at her. She jumped out her seat and pressed herself to the back wall. The loose leg of her chair had broken off as it hit the ground. She carefully eyed it.

The Joker began laughing even harder as one of the men threw him a set of keys and he unlocked his handcuffs. She then remembered the door was locked from the inside. She was trapped.

There were sudden bangs against the door and frantic shouting before it was battered down. Guns started going off between the real guards and the fakes. She stayed shaking against the wall, unable to move.

The Joker walked towards her, and he cupped her face in his hands.

"You are going to be… Magnificent."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I've uploaded earlier than planned, but I wrote and finished this chapter today and couldn't wait. It was pretty difficult writing pre-Joker and I felt a bit uneasy creating my own origin but I hope I did him justice, it is only this small bit anyway. I left his description vague so it's up to you what Joker he is, but the smile scars are important in my mind. 
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos' as well !! 🥰


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And I was in the darkness, so darkness I became.”
> 
> At the start of a new year and a new family, the Joker's unknown daughter decides to finally meet him, seeking closure, whilst he's being held in Arkham Asylum. However, the meeting turns into one bad day that ruins everything. Forever.

"You are going to be… Magnificent."

She looked past his head at the guards engaging in a vicious gun fight. There was only two still standing. She couldn’t tell who the real guard was and who was the fake. Her ears were ringing, painfully due to deafening gunshots in such a small space, and her the back of her eyes began to ache from a sudden migraine.

She looked back into those eyes, drenched with madness, searching for something, just anything that remained of her father. But there was nothing. 

It was silent for a moment as they stared each other down.

The sense of danger reached boiling point. Animalistic instinct overcame her fragile mental and physical state. She must flee.

She mustered all her strength and shoved him into the mirror, with little thought. As it shattered, she saw into the other room. The guard she had met before was lying dead, half his head blown out onto the floor, along with two other guards. The Joker tried to stand up, his legs shaking, and his hand pressed to the bleeding wound on his temple. 

Laughing. 

Still laughing. 

She quickly picked up the broken chair leg, gripping onto it for dear life.

He looked up and simply grinned.

“Do it.” 

Adrenaline took over her body and she swung the chair leg brutally into the side of his head. He was immediately knocked unconscious. 

She froze, then threw the chair leg to the side and kneeled beside him. Her emotions came rushing back as she looked down at him, hunched but limp on the tiled floor.

She pushed his bloodied hair back to reveal his face. He was still smiling. 

She yelped like a wounded dog and pushed herself back away from him. She looked up after realising there were no more gunshots. Everyone was dead or bleeding out from the gunfight. 

She had never seen a dead person. She had never seen so much blood. She had never seen such pain. Her heart was physically aching, ferociously beating. She couldn’t breathe properly. Tears began streaming uncontrollably down her face. She took one last look at her father, still unconscious, but she worried he was dead. 

Then, she started running. 

All logic and rationality completely left her. Fight or Flight set in.

She ran and ran through Arkham Asylum. So many corridors required a key card or code to get through, she felt like a rat in a maze. She was too fast for guards to catch her, and the muffled jeers from prisoners in their padded cells just pumped fuel into the fire in her head. 

She came to halt at a cross-section. She was in a white corridor, with the same harsh fluorescent lighting as the visitation room, and there was one cell at the very end. All the other cells were brand new, but this one had been left, rusted bars and stained floor galore. She squinted to get a better look. 

Shouts could be heard in the distance, but they were getting closer. She paid no attention. She began walking, suspiciously towards the person in the cell. As she got closer, she realised it was the platinum-haired girl from the train. 

She couldn’t speak, her breath was too shallow, and her lungs itched for air. She gave the girl a pleading look, desperate for help even though she knew in the back of her mind she was not to be trusted. 

A smile spread across the girl’s face, and she pointed left with her finger. 

The shouting of guards drew closer. 

She looked to the left, back at the girl, and started the chase again. 

She was beginning to lose consciousness; her vision began to blur, and she started tripping over her own feet. She started to question herself as to why she ran. Why didn’t she just get help? But her legs were on autopilot and she couldn’t make them stop. She began thinking about him. Was it all fake? The casual conversations and laughter. The loving, fatherly look in his eyes before he turned on her. Why and how did he manage to corrupt those guards into acting on his side which for some reason involved the confrontation of guns in her face from all angles?

He must have known who she was before he even saw her. 

She clenched her eyes shut, to focus on her breathing. When she opened them, guard with a baton ahead was stationed in the corridor just a few feet ahead. She didn’t stop running in time. The blunt force of the baton smacked her down to the cold, concrete floor, and her consciousness slipped away.

She saw his smile, fading into her mind. 

*

She gradually woke up and recognised she was back in another interrogation room just like she was in earlier that day, before shutting her eyes almost immediately. The lights blinded her. She had a pounding headache. It was worse than any hangover she ever felt. She hoped for a second, that she was hungover, that she wasn’t really in that horrid room and everything that just happened was some whacky drunk dream. 

She was breathing deeply, her body thankful for the oxygen. She let her head hang over the back of the chair, lacking the energy just to hold it up. She began falling asleep, debilitated from the events of that day and what her body had been through.

Her mind was cruel enough to make her think she was home, safe. Like nothing happened.

The inaudible shouts of her fiancé woke her up like a kick in the stomach. Her eyes shot open and she threw her head forward, nearly giving herself whiplash. 

She realised her clothes were soaked with old sweat, sticking to her skin, she was freezing. She then realised her hands were shackled to the chair. She began struggling. She began screaming. She looked around frantically and noticed a gritty window to her side. She saw her fiancé, hurling abuse at the interrogators who she met earlier and several police officers. He was freaking out as much as her. He turned the same time she did. A great look of relief flashed on his face before he began banging on the window shouting her name. 

She let her head hang back again and sighed, filled with sudden peace. He was here, everything would be okay. 

After demanding he be let into the room, one of the officers unlocked the door, and he rushed over to her. He held her head up and pushed her hair behind her ears, telling her repeatedly it was going to be okay and planting small kisses on her cheeks. If she was conscious enough, she would’ve clocked onto the tone of his voice, the panic in his actions and realised, something else has happened. 

He stood up, and with an aggressive frown plastered to his forehead, he marched up to the interrogators, towering over them, and ordered that her handcuffs be taken off, arguing there was not enough evidence for her to be chained like an animal. 

“Listen, pal, The Joker, who’s her DAD which she failed to mention to any of us, has escaped. Guess what? SHE WAS THERE. And Harley Quinn? She’s escaped as well and guess again, SHE WAS THERE.” 

One of the interrogators was losing his patience. He squared up to her fiancé, coming within inches of his face.

“Not the to mention the other escapes of numerous criminals known to be Joker’s henchmen and all the dead guards.” The other interrogator looked proud to chip in with his comment. 

Her fiancé backed off, stumped. He couldn’t argue. He walked back to her and started to tell her again that everything will be okay. 

A man walked into the room. He was composed and looked kind. 

“Commissioner, we- “An officer stumbled before Jim Gordon interrupted.

“Take those handcuffs off.” He snapped.

A confused officer with the keys obeyed. 

Her fiancé took off his jacket and placed it around her shoulders before gently asking her to stand. She fell into his side for support. 

“Have you got a lawyer?”

“Well yes my brother, but surely she doesn’t need one she hasn’t done anything- “ 

“She’s going to have to stay in Gotham until this is thoroughly investigated. I’m sorry, but the evidence against her is overwhelming.” Gordon said calmly. He knew the truth but couldn’t prove it. 

“We won’t officially place her under arrest, so you can go get yourself a nice hotel in the city, be comfortable, plan her defence.” He looked towards her, sympathetically. She was shivering profusely, and her eyes were half shut. He noticed faint blood on one of her hands, and a bruise forming on her head. He knew this was not someone who could plan and carry out an elaborate plan to free the most dangerous villains in Gotham. 

They were free to leave, but she was far from free herself, in every sense of the word. 

*

Jim Gordon worked into the night, his head thumping from watching CCTV footage for hours and drinking too much coffee. Everything really did point towards her. 

_“- The Joker, along with Harley Quinn and several other inmates, have escaped from Arkham Asylum leaving a bloodbath behind them. Gotham police apparently have a suspect who may have helped the criminals break free, but no information has been given. It’s only a matter of time before crime on Gotham streets rise again -“_

He turned the TV off and slammed down the remote on his desk before returning to his thoughts.

She was brought to the Asylum with Harley Quinn and she was meeting with The Joker but didn’t tell anyone he was her father. The guards in there with her and The Joker were imposters. She was caught on camera running through the Asylum like a headless chicken and stopped at Harley Quinn’s cell, although twelve minutes of footage from that point onwards had been corrupted. She could’ve easily broken Harley out and Joker’s followers within that time frame, if she really was a skilled criminal like she’d have to be to carry this out. 

Footage after that twelve minutes show The Joker and Harley hand in hand, their minions shooting dead any guard in the way with their stolen guns, leaving the building with utter ease, whilst she was lying unconscious. The footage shows them passing her, lying on the ground. They shot dead the guard that knocked her out, but they just left her. 

The Joker did, however, kneel and kiss her forehead affectionately, before carrying on. 

Gordon rubbed his eyes and sighed whilst putting on his coat, before leaving his desk to head to the rooftop. 

He wrapped his coat around to shelter himself from the crisp winter air, and looked around, searching for him. He knew he’d be there. 

He heard a thud and heavy footsteps behind him, which always frightened him. He started speaking his thoughts, filled with frustration. 

“It just doesn’t make sense. Why would he abandon her? Why would she run around, clearly lost, if she had a plan like this? I know she didn’t do this. The Joker used her, but I just don’t know how to prove it. I mean she’s pregnant for Christ sake.” 

“Joker’s blood runs through her veins. Everyone has a front, who knows what she’s like behind hers. Even if she is innocent, she’ll be easy to manipulate in the hands of The Joker. Maybe that’s his plan.” Batman commented in his usual deep, unfaltering voice. 

Gordon shuddered at the terrible thought that intruded his mind.

“He wants to create an empire, and she’s next in line.”

He turned around mid-sentence, but Batman had, unsurprisingly, vanished.

“Well, that’s just great.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And I was in the darkness, so darkness I became.”
> 
> At the start of a new year and a new family, the Joker's unknown daughter decides to finally meet him, seeking closure, whilst he's being held in Arkham Asylum. However, the meeting turns into one bad day that ruins everything. Forever.

Curled up, with her knees to her chest, she stared out the window, listening to the faint noise of the traffic below, whilst watching raindrops race each other. It was always raining.

They rented a grim studio apartment, approved by GCPD, the logic being it was “safer” than a hotel. It was right in the heart of Gotham. There were undercover police officers stationed around the complex, making sure she stayed within a mile radius.

She got bored of the raindrop race and turned to face her fiancé and his brother, arguing over sheets of paper spread all over the table and floor. Her fiancé's brother really was a renowned lawyer, but she couldn’t help the dread of the inevitable.

It was set in her mind that Joker had convicted her. Even if she didn’t receive time in prison, he had convicted to her to an unbearable feeling of rejection and the forever wondering of “what if?”

A single tear escaped down her cheek. She quickly stood up and walked to the little kitchen before anyone saw it. Her fiancé and future brother in law were too preoccupied to notice. She decided she was going to make dinner, even though she knew no one had an appetite and all they had were carrots and plain pasta, but she just wanted to feel a tiny bit of normalcy. She discreetly listened to the hushed conversation whilst preparing the carrots for chopping. She found a chopping board and a selection of knives.

She began zoning out, getting lost in her head, their voices becoming background noise. She picked up the largest knife, twisting it gently in her hand so the kitchen light bounced off the silver shine.

“You don’t understand how this city works. They will do what they can to pin this on her to save whatever reputation they have left.”

She traced the blade with her fingers, softly, causing a light graze and mild pain to shoot through her fingers. She stared at it emotionless. Her mind focused on her father, that night he was arrested outside the apartment and the way he acted in the visitation room before it went wrong.

She pressed the sharp tip of the knife into the tip of her middle finger, until a small drop of blood came out.

“But they have no solid evidence, surely, they can’t just send someone to jail without any proof, she’s a pregnant woman as well for fuck sake!”

She gritted her teeth, gripped the knife and slammed it into the countertop, cracking the chopping board and getting it stuck in the wood underneath. The hushed voices ceased, and heads turned towards her.

She lifted her eyes from the knife, her hand still gripped around it, looking at the shocked men with their mouths hanging open through her eyebrows.  
“I’m going out.” She grabbed her purse, her fiancé’s leather jacket, which was far too big, and left.  
  
Her breath caught on the freezing air as she left the building. It was still raining. Bright yet cloudy. She looked for her phone for Google Maps then rolled her eyes as she remembered this isn’t her jacket. She wrapped the warm leather around her and breathed in his cologne. She closed her eyes peacefully, a wave of safety and comfort washed over her, warming her heart. She was about to turn and go back to apologise, but she spotted a car with two men sitting in it directly across from her. Obviously, an unmarked police car. A little moment of bitterness overcame her.

She jogged up to the car and knocked on the window and as it rolled down it revealed two very confused faces. Voices over their walkie talkies were the only thing breaking the awkward moment of silence.

“Don’t suppose you could tell me where the bank is?”

The two police officers stared at each other then looked back around.

“Uh, yeah, it’s just a few blocks that way. Would you like us to take you?”

“Nah, I’m good.”

She threw her hands in her pockets and started heading in the direction the cop pointed in, feeling smug.

*

The city centre of Gotham was so like New York, but something in the air seemed off. The streets were dirtier, the people kept their heads lower, and traffic moved faster. No one talked, no one stopped.

There was a permanent cloud of desolation that hanged over them.

She saw the bank, stained marble with large iron doors looming over her. She ran in, hunched against the wind and rain, hopeful for warmth, but inside was just as bleak. Even the huge crystal chandeliers were dull.

“Hi, can I change these into dollars please.” She took out her purse and handed over all her pound notes, she figured she was going to be here for a long time yet. The cashier looked her up and down before giving a disapproving look. She tried not to think too much of it, smiled and retreated into her head as the cashier changed her notes.

Her mind was blank, like it was filled with cotton instead of any real thoughts or emotions.

Her mind began coming back to reality as she heard a quiet chittering noise and something like a spring being pushed up and down. She looked around but couldn’t see anything and no one else had seemed notice either.

She felt a little nudge at her foot, and slowly looked down. It was one of those wind-up chattering teeth. She looked around again, there were no children. She looked back down and watched as it started to get slower and slower until it finally stopped.

Her ears began hearing every single sound throughout that bank. A chill like nothing she ever felt before ran through her entire body. She began picking up a very, very faint ticking noise, until she homed in on the sound and it filled her head, deafening her.

“EVERYBODY GET OUT NOW”

There was a painful ringing in her ears that felt like it was bursting every cell in her brain, hearing nothing but her heartbeat. Her lungs clenched at the ash and dust filling them. Her brow bone throbbed from the piece of rubble that hit it.

A bomb had gone off.

Debris lay around corpses like stone flowers.

One of the great chandeliers lay shattered beside her, it had just missed. She was covered in glass.

Her hearing gradually came back, the ringing was replaced by unimaginable horror

Pools of red gathered on the marble floor. Bodies dismembered. Those still alive screaming in pain or wailing over their dead loved one.

She realised she had fallen onto her stomach and felt a mild cramp. No other part of her seemed to be injured apart from the wincing pain of her eye.

She stood up, disorientated. Just a hollow shell of a person. No emotions. No thoughts.

She looked around, still listening to the blood curdling yells, watching the floor turn red and people from the outside rushing to help. She noticed only a quarter of the bank was still standing. Even the iron doors had fallen. Several dozen people had crowded around the crater blown into the bank and rain was pouring in. Cars screeched their brakes and sirens could now be heard in the distance.

She heard a cracking behind her as someone stepped on a piece of glass. She felt a pair of eyes latched onto her. She forced herself to look back. An ominous figure stood, unnoticed by everyone else. A steady being amongst the chaos, holding a gun in his hand, less than ten inches away from her head.

He was wearing a clown mask.

She ducked down immediately, the gun fired and shot a man in the crowd around the hole of the bank. He was dead instantly. Before anyone had time to process what had just happened, several other clown figures emerged from nowhere, outside and in the bank, all armed with handguns, pointed at her.

A massacre followed.

All at once, every gun was fired, but people had already begun to run in every direction, and she was enveloped in the mass, hidden. More gunshots, more screams.  
She managed to push her way through the crowd until she was out the bank. She thought she ran fast in Arkham Asylum. But now her legs were carrying her faster than she knew they could.

Traffic and people littered the streets like the whole population was crammed into just a few blocks.

She kept scanning everyone around her, at the people next to her, people in the stuck cars, people in the windows, closing her in.

She finally reached her apartment building. She didn’t wait for the elevator, instead sprinted up the stairs. She reached her door and rummaged the pockets of her jacket for the key, then remembered she had left with nothing but her purse, which was now useless.

She clenched her fist ready to knock, hoping her fiancé and his brother were still there, when she noticed the door was slightly open.

She pushed it lightly with the tip of her finger.

A few little drops of blood led from the door into the room.

Every muscle in her body seized. Papers were strewn all over the place, the table had been knocked over and the light on the kitchen counter was smashed on the floor.

Before any thought came to her mind, she was hit over the head by something and someone unknown.

She fell to the ground, and the last thing she saw was a swish of black, then her eyes fluttered closed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And I was in the darkness, so darkness I became.”
> 
> At the start of a new year and a new family, the Joker's unknown daughter decides to finally meet him, seeking closure, whilst he's being held in Arkham Asylum. However, the meeting turns into one bad day that ruins everything. Forever.
> 
> Just a little warning for this chapter! Strong violence and painful emotions.

A splash of cold water hit her face. She choked on the now wet cloth tied around her mouth.

Across from her was her fiancé. Tied up to a chair with rope. Bloody. His eyes were black, his nose was broken, and his hair stuck to his face from the blood and sweat.

She screamed, her cry muffled by the cloth and tried to jump forward, then realised she was also bound to a chair. She looked around frantically for some sort of sharp object nearby to free them both, but she then noticed how familiar the room was.

The wallpaper was peeling off, carpet so worn down it exposed the ashy floorboard beneath. It was so dark apart from the hint of light from a streetlamp coming through a half boarded up window, reflecting off the blood on her fiancés face.

She looked down at her feet and saw shreds of white fabric, curly green material and stuffing like those in ragdolls, covered in twenty years worth of dirt and dust. Twenty-three years to be exact.

She knew where she was. And terror consumed her.

At that moment her fiancé began screaming and screaming into the cloth, using all his strength to free himself but ended up toppling over in his chair onto the floor. He didn’t stop screaming.

She just stared, frozen. She heard a creak of a floorboard behind her but dared not to look.

Her fiancé became more and more hysteric, and she felt something cold on her cheek.

The cloth around her mouth was cut off in one swift movement, the tip of the knife nicking her eyebrow.

Her fiancé fell silent, his eyes wide, following something behind her. She read his expressions carefully, trying to figure out what he saw. His slowly frowned out of confusion, still watching whatever was behind her.

A black, cloaked figure appeared in the corner of her eye and began circling her. In the darkness, she saw no features on this black mass but could feel eyes staring at her. The figure turned around to face the fiancé, on the floor still bound to the chair, cocked their head to the side and then pulled the chair upright with ease.

The figure walked around to the back of his chair to face her. The light coming in through the window finally allowed her to see whoever it was properly.

She saw a mask, with pointed ears on top.

It can’t be. It just can’t be.

“Tell me everything about the Joker. Now.” He said in a very deep, coarse voice which sounded as if he was trying to cover up his real voice.

She remembered she could speak.

“I know nothing. Absolutely nothing. I swear to god.”

He flashed what looked to be a pocketknife, it gleamed in the light.

“I swear I know NOTHING.”

He placed his gloved hands on her fiancé’s shoulders and began to massage them, the knife uncomfortably close to his neck.

“What do you know of that night. That night when your mother abandoned him and stole you away.”

Anger began to form inside her chest.

“Why the fuck do you care? What is this? Is this how you capture all your villains like they are fucking collectables, hold their relative’s hostage and ask irrelevant questions?”

He grabbed her fiancé’s hair and sharply pulled his head back then pressed the knife into his neck.

“You answer my questions. Or he dies.” 

Her fiancé began crying. She had never seen him cry before. She tried so hard to communicate with her eyes that everything would be okay. For once it was her job to try and protect him.

“You are meant to be the good guy. The hero.” Her voice shuddered. She was so filled with confusion. She could not understand.

He chuckled very slightly then stopped himself immediately.

“Don’t believe what you read in the newspapers. We live in a society where good guys don’t exist, and no one saves the day.”

She took a deep breath and controlled her tears. She could not show weakness. Not now.

“My mother did not abandon him, and she did not _steal_ me. She would’ve gone to prison and I would’ve been thrown into foster care, she did what any good mother would do.”

This did not seem to be a satisfying answer. She looked down at her leg was moving up and down uncontrollably. She closed her eyes and tried so, so hard to remain composed.

“… she loved him until the day she died.”

He relaxed, his hand still in her fiancé’s hair but loose, and the knife resting on his shoulder instead of being pressed into his throat.

“And do you love him?”

She slowly opens her eyes and lifted her head. She glared. Her leg stopped moving. The sheer shock and rage from this question caused her to answer faster than she could think.

“Never.”

There was a moment of silence. And then he dragged the knife across her fiancé’s throat. Deep red sprayed across the room and she was drenched in his blood. The screech that came out of her mouth came from the depths of her soul. The sound of raw agony ripped through the room.

She locked eyes with her beloved, her soulmate, for the last time. Eyes that brought her so much comfort and happiness, usually filled with so much warmth and love. She saw the life slip from them.

She heard a gun being cocked then her fiancé flung to the ground along with the chair with the force of a bullet through his head. The bullet skimmed the top of her ear as it came through. She wailed and screamed until her throat couldn’t take it anymore. The grief that overwhelmed her entire being was so great she thought she was going to die. And she wanted to.

Batman threw the gun to the side and walked towards her, his body language showing no emotion, and she knew if he took off that mask his face would be like stone. She now understood why Batman is her father’s arch-nemesis. Maybe he knows this is what Batman is really like.

He grabbed her chin with his hand and lifted her face. She let him. She had no fight in her. She had no desire to live.

If she paid attention, she would’ve recognised his eyes.

He took the knife and pressed it into her cheeks. She did not even flinch.

“A smile on the outside masks the pain on the inside. You may wish he wasn’t your father, but he will always be a part of you.”

He dropped the knife onto the ground and walked into another room next to the kitchen, which seemed to have several other people inside, then slammed the door shut.

She felt herself slipping away, she did not know if she was going to die or simply fall unconscious, and she did not care. But then, she felt a cramp in her abdomen.

The baby.

She had to stay awake. She had to stay alive. This baby is all she has left in the world.

She located the knife Batman had dropped and reached her foot out to pull it towards herself with then steadily tried to balance it in between her feet until she could reach down as far as she could manage and grab it. She dropped it several times due to the mixture of anxiety and the animalistic instinct to survive. She finally managed to get it and cut the ropes off her wrists then the ones around her shoulders and midsection.

She was free.

She kneeled next to her fiancé, lying face down in a pool of blood and cut him free as well.

“It’s okay I’m here, we’re gonna get you to a hospital, you’re okay. I promise you’re okay. We are all okay.”

She quietly but quickly ran to the front door to check it, but it was locked. She ran to the window and broke the boards off, being as quiet as possible. She went back to her fiancé’s side.

He was limp and cold. She tried to lift him or drag him towards the window, but he was too heavy.

“Come on now, we have to go. Come on get up. You have to get up. Please, please get up. We’ve gotta go home.”

The desperation in her voice would have broken the heart of anyone that heard it. She turned him around and placed his head on her lap. Even with the gash on his neck, the bullet hole in the middle of his forehead and the wash of death, he was still beautiful.

She gently closed his eyes over with her hand and brushed his hair out of his face. Her tears fell onto her cheek. She heard voices and the door open. She looked up, hardly able to see from the tears in her eyes. She knew she had to leave him behind. It was the last thing on earth she’d rather do, but she knew he would never forgive her if she didn’t put the baby first. She leaned down and softly kissed his lips. People were leaving the room now, their voices got closer.

She carefully placed his head onto the floor and stood up. She went to open the window, but it would budge. Panic began seeping in. She then saw her reflection. She became completely stiff, stuck to the spot. Staring at her face. Her wounds.

“SHE’S ESCAPIN’!” A female voice shrieked.

She looked back and saw whoever just yelled was far away enough for her to escape. She pulled the sleeve of her jacket over her fist and punched the window until it shattered.

Before anyone could grab her, she jumped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has waited for this chapter!!

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I have wrote anything creative in years, so forgive me if spelling, grammar etc. isn't quite right! This is purely for my own enjoyment as a little hobby but if one person reads this I hope you enjoy it too! Feel free to comment if you'd like. 
> 
> Next chapter will be posted each Tuesday :)


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